Fooled
by ohgeekyone
Summary: She isn't the gold-digging whore everyone thinks. One shot, inspired by Minisode 1 and Yvetta's "cardiologist" remark.


**My first one-shot :D  
It's not very long, as it's based on only five minutes of a minisode, but I just couldn't help myself. Despite being incredibly jealous of Yvetta (I'm sure no one can guess why :| ), during the third season, especially the end, I sort of found a sense of respect for her. I don't know whether she was actually saying that she was a cardiologist, or whether she was just insinuating that in her home country, she was classed as incredibly intelligent. If anyone knows for sure what she meant, please share.**

**I don't know if anyone's done this before, so if I've stolen someone elses story, I apologise. Drop me a message :)**

**I really hope you enjoy it. **

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I waited outside patiently. Despite my outwardly confident aura, my heart was hammering in my chest at a mile a minute that was only rivaled by a hummingbird. I brought the cigarette up to my lips and sucked on it, holding the smoke in for as long as possible. The heat radiated my body and succeeded in calming me down for a moment, but the second I let the air go, the nerves returned. This was why I had developed the vile addiction. When I was puffing on a cigarette, the warmth it provided me enveloped me in a security blanket of sorts. It was a nice feeling knowing that I always felt the same, whether I was in Estonia or America, when my hand was laced with a cigarette.

Another girl came barreling out of the door, grabbing her stuff from the chair next to where I stood. The underside of her breasts were very visible in the top (could it be called a top?) she wore, and she was huffing and sighing, murmuring profanities under her breath. Like the ones before her, she turned to me, her eyes wild and pissed. "Good luck. Fuck knows you'll need it with those two. I know they all say he's phenomenal in bed, but shit, he's gotta be either gay or blind not to appreciate this." And with that, she turned on her heel, strutting out the large steel door and towards the parking lot.

I shook my head at the girl. She was the seventh girl to exit that room looking like they'd wanted to either murder something or cry their eyes out. I threw my now done with cigarette onto the floor, smothering it with the ball of my foot now I knew that my time was coming. Sure enough, the music to the man before me came to a grinding halt, and the woman - according to the internet, her name was Pam - shouted "Next!" in a tone of voice that made me realize what I had to do if I wanted this job. I _needed_ this job. It was absolutely _essential _to everything I'd been doing for the last four years.

Taking a deep breath, I walked in with the confident smirk on my face that had become second nature to me during high school. As an attractive girl in a man's country, it was vital to use "womanly wiles" to get your own way - I'd found that a small smirk and great tits were key to getting what you want. Thankfully, I had both.

Since I'd moved here not two months ago, I'd been perfecting this moment in my mind, pulling out all the stops in order to get the job going at Fangtasia. The outfit I wore, although highly degrading to my education, was like my war paint - it was an extra measure to make sure I stuck in this guy's mind.

I walked in as assertively as I could, trying to ignore the way both their heads turned to look at me.

"Dobrý večer," I greeted them, knowing that vampires were perfectly capable of understanding many different languages. Besides, it set me apart - I bet none of the other whores here spoke Estonian. My inner thoughts made me cringe - I was one of "the whores" now. I was trying for a position at _Fangtasia_ as a dancer - of course I'd have to be a whore about it. I couldn't exactly be conservative.

They both greeted me with suggestive, "Oh, hello's", and I introduced myself, trying to make my accent more pronounced. I could tell that the man - the prestigious Eric Northman - was Scandinavian of some sort. Since I'd gotten my degree, I'd spent more than enough time around people from different cultures, and his appearance, his body language and his personality all pointed to Scandinavia, probably over 800 years ago. I couldn't find the precise date of his turning on the internet. I did, however, find out certain measurements, not only about his personality, but also physically. It was ridiculous (actually, I reminded myself, it was anything _but_ ridiculous. The website I found it on, however, was).

Eric reprimanded Pam for ignoring an order, telling her in Swedish that I was his. If they thought I didn't understand, they were sorely mistaken. I almost bristled at the possessive pronoun, but decided to ignore it and pretend I was ignorant to most things in vampire life, including their language. 'Act stupid' was a horrible motto, but it served the purpose of letting me keep my life.

Eric got rid of Pam easily, and I didn't miss the lust filled look she shot at me as she slid past me slowly. I reminded myself that if I had to sleep with her, too, so be it. She was his progeny, and I knew that while some bonds between a maker and their child were not especially strong, some were, quite simply, unbreakable. It was obvious which side their relationship fell. Thus, if I managed to secure Eric and begin to subtly study him, I would be shared with Pam.

Since vampires came out of the coffin, my career prospects had rocketed. People all around the world were looking to those in my profession to figure the shocking anomaly. My peers and I had been baffled. How could someone be technically alive with no beating heart? How could they function without oxygen pumping in and out of them? While some of my colleagues were horrified and had been forced into early retirement, I had found the idea fascinating. I'd immediately asked to be assigned to our newly formed "Vampire Cardiology" segment of the hospital. It wasn't a large sector, of course, as vampires didn't technically have a "heart". They had the organ, but it wasn't used. Since I was never busy dealing with vampire heart issues (never had I seen a vampire have a heart attack or have heart disease), I dedicated the majority of my time to research. Hence my reasoning for getting on a plane, heading to the vampire "Mecca" - New Orleans - before deciding there were too many vampires in high places. The Queen resided there in the French Quarter, and I didn't want to have to deal with a Queen for researching under her nose. So I got a cab to Shreveport, and quickly heard about Fangtasia. It had garnered a lot of attention, being the first vampire-friendly and vampire owned bar in Shreveport. I saw on their website that they were hiring, and my heart leapt about two feet high. This, I thought, was my opportunity. I arranged to audition, and immediately began planning my research.

I waited until the blonde vampire was out of my eye line, smiling at her as she went, before I looked back at Eric and spouted off some ostentatious shit about different dance styles. Truthfully, I wasn't adapted to many styles at all. When I was growing up, I couldn't go to dancing lessons since we couldn't afford it, and any money that we did have went into my college fund. My parents were adamant that I was going to college. I was beyond grateful to them for supplying my life and my education to me. I didn't think they'd be too happy to hear what use I was putting it to.

When Eric leaned back in his chair with a shit-eating grin on his face, I knew I'd snagged him. He was as good as mine.

Overjoyed that I'd managed to ensnare and fool the vampire, I ripped my fur coat off, ignored the sense of loss and shame that overtook me, and walked up onto the stage. I could do this. My whole career was riding on it.

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**I'm not a cardiologist - in case nobody can tell - so I don't know exactly how it all works. Sorry if I've just offended any cardiologists out there by butchering their job. I tried to keep in generalised, but that's probably wrong too.**

**I hope you enjoyed my short back story to Yvetta :D**


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